


closer

by parkerprotectionprogram



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, and i wanted to rewrite it so, based off closer, i wrote a thing back when i was straight, the story behind the song was nice you know, this is a bit of a mess??, yes im a little ashamed but, yes that song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerprotectionprogram/pseuds/parkerprotectionprogram
Summary: four years later, you’re still as beautiful as ever





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> a.n: so if you haven’t seen the teaser you’ll know that i had this written a couple of years ago and recently thought to rewrite it and make it into a fic. loosely based off the song closer by the chainsmokers

The first thing he hears walking into the swanky bar is a loud yell of his name and is just as soon accosted by a tall blond in an disgustingly expensive suit. Of course, he has no room to judge, dressed similarly in a tailored three piece. This of course, attracted snide looks from the older guests, whose slicked back hair and shiny Rolex watches speak of class and luxury. To yell out in such a manner, though dressed appropriately, does nothing to endear Haz to them.  

Tom sighs, hugging his friend back and ushering him to the seat he’d propelled himself out of. The man isn’t quite intoxciated but is steadily approaching it and having only just arrived, Tom is in no hurry to leave.

“Where’ve you been, mate?” Haz asks, sipping on his whiskey and pushing a glass towards him that Tom eyes wearily.

“I just got here. How long have you been waiting?”

The blond shrugs, cracking an easy smile at his friend. “Not long.”

“Long enough to get plastered, you don’t usually run your mouth this much,” he surmises, raising his eyebrows slightly. Glancing around the bar, he notes the cluster of men around the pool table, two of which seem to be in a dispute that has them angrily muttering at each other, faces flushed. Darting a quick look over to the bartender, he finds that the man looks ready to insist they leave the moment it gets physical.

“What? I’m not drunk,” Haz denies, shaking his head. “Only had a couple of drinks, I’m fine. And give me a break, I haven’t seen you in five months and  _this_  is how you say hello?”

“If you say so,” he accedes. “Just know I’m not dragging you home to change if you throw up in the middle of the reunion.”

Harrison’s protests die on his tongue in the next moment and it seems as though all the blood in his face drained, taking on a pallid colour. Tom doesn’t notice his friend’s uneasy demeanor, eyes on the visibly furious men who have now been forced to leave. When he returns his gaze to his friend, he frowns, taking note of his wan appearance.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to throw up,” he scolds teasingly, “Really, Haz. This place is high end, they’ll never let you back in if you hurl and ruin their carpets - which by the way I happen to know cost more than your and my rent combined.”

His friend shakes his head, eyes fixed on something over his shoulder. The longer the silence drags on, Tom frowns as Haz becomes more ashen faced. Uneasiness settling in his stomach, he turns to find the offending source and freezes upon seeing an all too familiar face at the bar only yards away from where he sits.

You still look as beautiful as ever, hair styled in such a way that flattered you immensely and dark lashes framing your eyes. Eyes which light up happily as you converse with a bartender, Tom’s throat dries as you turn your head ever so slightly, your side profile giving him the perfect view of the contours of your face, cheekbones shimmering ever so slightly under the chandelier lighting.

You reach up to fiddle with your necklace, rubies glittering at your throat and studded diamonds glinting on your ears. Your nails are coated in a deep red - the same shade, Tom realises, as they’d been the night everything had gone to shite.  _Funny how things stay with you only to pop up when you least expect it_ , he thinks bitterly. Eyes roving downward, his breath stutters in his throat as his gaze caresses the expanse of your back that the form fitting, little black dress you wear does nothing to conceal. The black ink on your right shoulder plate, he sees, still remains.  _Even after all these years_. It sends a pang of nostalgia through him, bittersweet memories he’d kept tightly locked up for so long rising to the surface and threatening to overwhelm him.

“Tom Holland? Is that you?”

He hadn’t seen her turn and make her way over, though judging by Haz’s apologetic smile, he had. Harrison hadn’t missed the falter in your smile, or the way your hands tremored as you picked up your purse and made your way over when you’d realised the two had seen you - been looking at you. Tom  _did_  notice, however, the slight waver in your voice noticeable to anyone paying  _just_  enough attention and dammit, he can’t help but hang onto your every word.

He returns your smile, willing his legs to work and standing up. He’s sure if he doesn’t compose himself in the next few minutes, Haz will be forced to call for help. He can see it now:  _Man passes out in front of ex, Riverside Bar._  Faintly, he thinks that it would make a terrible headline and remembers why he didn’t go into journalism. Returning his attention to you, he pulls away from you and feels cold, a part of him missing your soft touch.

“Y/n y/l/n,” he forces himself to return amicably, letting suprise colour his voice just the right amount that he doesn’t sound dumbfounded but rather pleasantly shocked.

“It’s been a while,” you murmur, shifting your weight and looking up at him. He swallows and returns your gaze for a brief moment before looking away. He feels more like a boy in this moment than he ever has in his life, suddenly shy around a girl like he had a silly crush.

“It has, four years, right? You’re looking well.”

You nod slowly at that, pursing your lips slightly. “Four years,” you agree in a tone that suggests it felt much longer, “Thankfully yeah, I am. And how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he answers and a snicker prompts the two of them to turn their heads in Haz’s direction, the blond having the decency to look abashed and becoming suddenly very interested in his whiskey. A subsequent silence settles over the two of them and she clears her throat, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you around. It was nice seeing you, Tom,” you say softly and he just manages to stammer out a goodbye before you turn and make your way out of the bar.

Sighing, the brunette runs a hand through his hair and slumps back into his chair, ignoring Harrison, who looks stupidly smug as he sips his whiskey.

“Oh shut up, Haz.” he scowls. “I’m too damn sober for this. Someone get me another drink.”

Harrison raises his hand and flags down a server, ordering a round of drinks while eyeing his best friend. The two then proceed to get thoroughly drunk. Watching the brunette throw back glass after glass of liquor, Haz can’t help but think that the next few days will likely pass in a similar manner unless he puts an end to the childishness.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what follows after your encounter with tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: this was sort of a struggle to write and i’m really not as confident about this so please be sure to let me know your thoughts and any constructive criticism you have!

Looking into the bathroom mirror you sigh tiredly, taking a moment to allow yourself the luxury of slouching forward, uncaring of your haggard expression and forgetting all thoughts of Mae’s reunion. For now, you’d relax and let yourself breathe before walking out of that door and likely bumping into the many people who were checking in. Having already come face to face with one, you didn’t feel you had the energy to deal with any more.

Hand raising to your mouth absently, you turned and leaned against the counter. It wasn’t as though Mae had purposely omitted the fact that he’d be here. You should’ve expected it and truth be told, a part of you had known he would be here. It was a bloody reunion after all. You just didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe that after all these years you’d be forced to meet once more.

You think back to only minutes earlier, meeting those warm brown eyes that had plagued your thoughts for months. He’d looked sinfully handsome, you admit reluctantly to yourself, sitting in that three piece, fingers drumming against the table. And then he’d stood up and you’d hugged him and had to fight back a gasp at how he’d filled out after college - after everything. The years had been good to him, you think, remembering the relaxed set to his shoulders before he’d noticed you and the glint his watch gave off - his very expensive looking watch.  _He was doing well for himself then_. Despite everything that had gone down four years ago, you felt warmth knowing he’d likely gotten where he’d wanted to.

You glance around the bathroom, for all its good lighting and clean environment, half considering hiding out until you could find a way to sneak back to your room. The hotel was nice, though you’d seen better, and perhaps you’d enjoy it more had you not been suffering a headache from your previous encounter. You felt fatigued already, loud music from outside muffled by the walls. Shaking your head, you remember that Mae would probably skin you if you didn’t show up and say hello.

Turning back around, you inspect your makeup, brushing off a fleck of dried mascara that had settled under your eye. Touching up on your lipstick and smoothing down the non-existent creases in your dress you took a deep breath and turned on your heel to exit the door.

Exiting the bathroom and walking into one of the banquet halls, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of several people you’d known long ago. Val is the first of many people that greet you, her laugh a little too forced and grating against your ears as she loops her arm in yours and extends the other to show off a pretty diamond bracelet that winks and sparkles in the light. You vaguely register complimenting it but truly you’re miles away and couldn’t care less.

Four years ago you might have grabbed her wrist and cooed over it fakely, thinking of everything else you owned that was  _much better_. You might have swept your hand over your collar to show off just that, maybe an expensive opal necklace or  _something_ , anything that would let you relish in the envious look in her eyes as you preened like a  _bloody peacock_. But that was four years ago. Here and now, you find yourself unable to properly entertain her and extricate yourself from her grasp, eyes scanning the crowd for Mae. And then just as you turn to give up and retreat to your hotel room, a shock of red hair appears by your side, the owner throwing their arms around you.

You laugh genuinely for the first time that night, hugging Mae back. Your oldest friend’s smile is warm and she looks beautiful in a bottle green dress, emerald studs at her ears and you gasp when your eyes zero in on her left hand to find a ring. She smiles excitedly when you look back up at her, throwing her hands up lightly.

“Surprise!”

“Surprise indeed, missy,” you scold though it’s without any malice, tugging her closer. “Who’s the poor bloke?”

She scowls and pinches your side at that remark, prompting you to shy away from her, laughing.

“I’ll introduce the two of you tomorrow,” she promises.

“Still putting things off to the last minute huh, Mae? It’s good to know some things will never change,” you tease.

“Oh bite me. I’m just glad you turned up. Have to admit, for a minute I thought you’d bailed,” she confesses.

“ _I_  thought I’d bailed, if I’m being honest,” you tell her. Then, looking down, you add quietly, “I bumped into Tom few minutes ago.”

She looks at you with wide eyes, setting her hand on your arm. “How’d it go?” she asks softly. Her tone makes you giggle and you look at her, amused.

“I’m alright, aren’t I?” You cluck your tongue playfully, “Really Mae, d’you have no faith in me?”

She pouts and starts defending herself, hands flying to her hips chastisingly. You shake your head, pressing your lips together to avoid laughing.

“‘M only joking,” you reassure. “I hugged him and we talked for a hot minute. It was awkward but it was okay.”

“If you say so,” she says, doubt clear as day in her voice. She still remembers the day it had happened, the breakup. The hurtful words that had been said and the weeks that came after. You touch her shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, making her look at you. “I’m alright, really. It was a long time ago.”

The rest of the night passes relatively uneventfully, and its only when you’re preparing for bed, slipping into your nightclothes and flicking off the bathroom light. It’s then that there’s a knock at your door. You flick a glance at the clock, seeing it’s a little past midnight and nearly everyone in the banquet hall had retired to their rooms early, you and Mae being amongst the last ones.

Your slip dress isn’t the most appropriate to answer the door in, you feel, and you wrap a robe around yourself, making your way to the door. You’re stunned when you’re met with bloodshot brown eyes.

“Tom?”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning after but not really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: i’ve been doing enough assignments the last few days that i feel like i should include a bibliography and referencing with the amount of stuff i checked.

You wake up with a crick in your neck and groaning as you stretch on the chaise, you feel as though you can’t really say you’ve woken up when it feels like you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep all night. Shifting on the cot that was far less luxurious than it looked, you bring your hands to your face and sigh, remembering just exactly why you hadn’t slept in the deliciously soft king size bed.

You eye the passed out man wearily, brown curls ruffled and mouth slightly open. He no longer looked like the fresh faced boy you’d known at 18, now all sharp edges and refined jaw. Absently, you notice the mole on his chin is no longer there. Shaking your head, you check the time and make your way to the bathroom, grabbing your clothes on the way. You avoid washing your hair, knowing breakfast will end in less than two hours and you haven’t much time to spend drying and styling it.

Thankfully, when you step out of the bathroom, there’s enough time left that you’ll be able to eat. Quickly scribbling down a note on a piece of paper, you rummage through your purse and cast Tom a final glance before closing the door behind you.

Taking the walk to the restaurant does little good for you, you find, as the events of last night are still fresh in your mind. You’re on the verge of a headache when you hear Mae’s voice call out your name. Turning your head, you perk up as you see her gesturing you over. She’s a vision in a pale yellow dress, almost glowing with happiness. You note the fair haired man next to her that holds her hand in his, a small grin on his face as he looks at her.

Taking a seat on her other side, you kiss her cheek and smile brightly when she introduces you to her fiancé, Jordan. She beams all the while, gazing adoringly at him and you almost cry out in relief when Val sits down next to you. You love Mae but not nearly enough to spend the rest of breakfast with her making doe eyes at Jordan. Thankfully, she eases up on the flirting and it’s halfway through Val and Jordan discussing their jobs that she looks at you with that look in her eyes that you’ve known since the two of you were stumbling through high school together, the one that says,  _I know you, I know something’s up_. And she asks you.

“Tom showed up at my door last night, plastered as hell,” you mutter lowly, shaking your head at the memory of him, face flushed and staggering to keep upright. “Could barely walk, mumbling all sorts of nonsense.”

Her eyes widen at this and then she frowns. “What’d you do?” she asks.

“I couldn’t do much, he  _passed out_ ,” you tell her and then add, wrinkling your nose distastefully, “Course, that was right after he’d emptied his stomach in the bathroom. He  _barely_  got there in time. I don’t even want to  _imagine_  what would’ve happened then.”

She tries to smother a giggle unsuccessfully and you shoot her a flat look, unimpressed.

“It’s not funny,” you stress. “How’d he know my room number? Why’d he even  _come_ to my room?”

“Beats me,” she says, shrugging ever so daintily, making you roll your eyes.  _Still bloody elegant doing everything, huh?_  “Maybe he was surprised to see you? Clearly he had a few drinks in between you seeing him again and later again last night. Probably thinking too much about you.”

“Probably,” you murmur, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You spend the rest of breakfast talking to Jordan while trying to avoid staining the white playsuit you  _know_  will refuse to budge if it gets messy. All the while, your mind is still lingering on the curly haired man you’d left in your bed. You dread the discussion that will likely follow the events of last night.

“Haz, I messed up, like, big time,” Tom says in a hushed voice, panicking as he shuts the door to his room.

His best friend eyes him, unfazed. “Mate, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Don’t quote shows at me, Harrison.”

“Sorry,” Haz laughs, and Tom feels his nerves buzz. Tapping his fingers against his legs rapidly, he turns to the blond, who now looks a little concerned.

“This is serious, isn’t it?” he asks, and the anxiety thrumming through his veins makes it hard for Tom not to snap back. The anxiety wins.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he mutters. Harrison frowns, holding his hands out placatingly.

“What’s going on, Tom? What’d you do?”

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well,” he replies, scratching his neck. “So last night y’know how I got a bit tipsy?”

“If that’s tipsy, I don’t think you should ever get drunk. The barman was this close,” Harrison says, showing the tiniest gap between his index finger and thumb, “to kicking you out, you were making such a scene.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Tom continues, “instead of ending up in my room, I think I might’ve, maybe, persuaded the receptionist to give me y/n’s room number.”

“You did  _what_?!” Harrison stands up, aghast.

“I wasn’t thinking straight!”

“Clearly!”

“ _Shut up, Harrison_.”

“Hey, least ‘m not the one who showed up banging on his ex’s hotel room door like some creep,” he retorts. Sighing, he asks, “What happened?”

“Nothing, last thing I remember is her taking the chaise.”

Harrison stares at him for a very long time, clearly at a loss for words. When he finally speaks, he says the words Tom himself doesn’t want to say out loud, for fear of having to face reality.

“You have to talk to her  _now_.”

_Damn it all to Hell._


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the dreaded 'talk'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: it’s been a hot minute! i finally finished this chapter, which i’ve had lying around for ages incomplete! is it terrible? possibly. cheesy? most definitely. will you enjoy it? who knows, mate, not me. i hope you do, though.

You spend the rest of the day in Mae and Jordan’s company, Val by your side. The girl, you notice, though a little capricious, is still as friendly as ever. She tells you about the travelling she’s done, backpacking through Europe and diving from a waterfall in Bali, and you listen intently, appreciating her company. Compared to the sharks you’d met with the night prior who had practically zeroed in on your bare left hand and pressed you with invasive questions about your dating life, hearing about the mosquitos in the Amazon is far more interesting.

You’re headed back to your room to hopefully take a nap and freshen up before dinner when you’re accosted - or just about, anyway - by Tom.

“Y/n!”

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him. Taking in his appearance, you notice his fidgeting nervously, thrumming his fingers against his leg.

“I see you’re in better shape than last night,” you coolly observe. At that, he flushes and offers you an apologetic smile.

“About that, I owe you an apology.”

You look at him, biting his lip and staring at you expectantly.

“Well, I should hope so. The chaise wasn’t as comfortable to sleep on, I’ll admit,” you tease lightly, cracking a small smile that he returns, though his is more hesitant, wary and you tilt your head before jerking it in the direction of your room.

“I guess you want to talk about it, huh? Same old Tom, always trying to work things out. C’mon, I’ve a feeling this isn’t a discussion for the hallway.”

If he notices the slight bitterness in your tone he doesn’t say anything. You grin wryly, and he falls into step with you as you walk down the hall. Slipping the card into the lock, you open the door and step inside.

“You can take a seat, I’ll just put the kettle on,” you tell him and he nods silently, lowering himself into the chair by the desk.

A silence falls over the room as the electric kettle boils and you lean against the counter of the kitchenette, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall where a particularly bland painting hangs. For three minutes, it remains this way, slightly torturous and seemingly never-ending. When the kettle beeps, you exhale and pour out the water into the cups you’ve set aside.

“D’you still take your tea the same way?” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear you and he looks up at you, an unknown emotion in his eyes. It’s funny, you used to be able to read him like a book and now he’s practically a stranger to you. The thought sends a pang through you and you blink, pushing the feeling away. At your raised eyebrows, he clears his throat, shaking his head.

“Um, yeah, thanks.”

You only incline your head slightly in response, rounding the little island to set the cup down in front of him before sitting down across him.

“So,” you say, “was there any particular reason you showed up at my door, completely wasted?”

He winces. “Right to it, then.”

“Beating around the bush just prolongs it,” you explain, shrugging. “I don’t like it.”

“To be completely honest with you, y/n, I didn’t plan on it. It wasn’t, like, some sort of scheme or anything,” he mutters and you can’t hold yourself back when you reply dryly,

“That’s good to know. For a second there I suspected you of something really bad but thank you for reassuring me.”

He sends you a look, as if to say ‘really? While I’m trying to apologise?’ and you mutter a “Sorry, I get mouthy when I’m nervous.”

“You’re not the only one who’s nervous, you know,” he says, a slight edge to his voice that hints at irritation and you stare, wide-eyed at his tone. Before you can snap back at him just because, he apologises.

“I’m sorry. I guess it was just weird seeing you after all these years. Not that I find you weird or anything, I just didn’t expect it. Should’ve, though, considering you’re best friends with Mae,” he rambles, visibly getting agitated and you watch with slight concern as he runs a hand through his hair. “I hate to sound cheesy but you know, seeing you after everything, I don’t like it.”

He doesn’t notice your eyebrows shoot up halfway across your forehead, continuing, “‘S just like yesterday we were walking out of finals and now we’re both here and so different but still the same. Bloody hell, you even drink your tea the same way! You can’t tell me it isn’t weird, y/n.”

He looks up as he says your name, eyes meeting yours properly for the first time during the whole exchange. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth worrying the skin as you stay quiet, gaze lowering to the table. You compose yourself, not knowing what to say. You want to tell him that i _ t doesn’t have to be weird, and this could have all been avoided if you hadn’t gotten utterly plastered, you selfish, selfish arse. I was fine until you made it weird. _

Tom’s face falters as the silence is prolonged, realising he’s said too much. He drops his head and you absently hear him sigh before rising out of the chair.

“I’ve gone too far. I’m sorry, really, y/n. I’ll leave you now but I just wanted to apologise for last night and thank you for not, I dunno, throwing me out like you could have.”

You hear his footsteps retreat, each step hurting more than the last and you just about curse yourself when you open your mouth.

“D’you remember the night before your 20th birthday when we pulled that all-nighter just so we could watch all the Harry Potter movies one last time as teenagers?”

Your eyes are still on the table as you hear him scoff out a laugh and say, “We built a blanket fort in your apartment, didn’t we?”

You chuckle sadly, “Complete with string lights and pillows.”

His steps are hesitant, slow, as he returns to his seat as if he doesn’t know whether you’ll scream at him or tell him to get out. Truth be told, neither do you.

In a turn of events beyond your understanding, the two of you somehow end up sharing the loveseat, knees barely brushing against each other and you can feel your heart in your throat as you continue to mumble on about old times.

_ “There’s absolutely no way I’m going in there,” he protested, though the smile he stifled betrayed the solemnity he so desperately tried to keep from wavering. _

_ “That’s where you’re wrong, Tommy because that’s exactly what you’re going to do,” you cooed, sending a sugary sweet grin his way. It amused you, the way his face paled ever so slightly as he looked up at the house which seemed to loom ominously over you, the flickering lights in the windows casting dancing shadows on the walls. _

_ He gripped your hand as you strolled inside, a delighted shriek leaving your lips as one of the workers, dressed as - of all things - a clown, jumped out. Tom just about bowled you over in his haste to get away, swearing under his breath. _

_ By the time you exited, you were just about in tears, laughing so hard, where your boyfriend had lost all colour in his cheeks. _

“It wasn’t fun, y/n,” he says, cheeks flushed and you feel yourself loosen up, grinning as you lean back into the couch and tilt your head to face the ceiling. In your peripheral vision, you see him do the same.

“Oh, but it was, it really was.”

Hearing him scoff, you turn your head to face him, only for the words to die down in your throat when you look at him -  _ really _ look at him, without any of the false pretences or fronts the two of you had last night, without the distraction of alcohol or fatigue.

It’s Tom. And he’s still the same, despite everything you had thought. He’s still the Tom you loved, still the boy you had given your heart so trustingly to.

It’s only when his lips ghost over yours do you flinch and pull away, standing up and clearing your throat.

“Well, I really ought to meet back up with Mae,” you say, scratching your arm, nodding at Tom. “You remember Mae.”

_ Of course, he fucking remembers Mae, you single brain celled, pathetic excuse for a human, he just mentioned her! _

He’s quietly stunned, and you try your best to ignore it and push down the guilt (why should you feel guilty for protecting your heart anyway?) before he lets out a sigh that makes you force yourself not to squirm uncomfortably because it sounds so resigned and sad all you want to do is fling your arms around him, but you can’t. You can’t.

“Yeah...yeah, I remember Mae. Give her my regards,” he says, forcing a smile as he stands up and dusts his trousers.

You tense when he steps forward, unsure of whether you can even handle a hug right after the very fresh almost incident, but he simply touches your elbow and smiles. And then he’s gone.

Just like four years ago, he’s gone. This time, though, all you do is take a breath and shake your head, heading into the bathroom.

Life moves on. So do you.

 


End file.
